


No Comfort In The Shade

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Community: teenwolfkink, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marking, Multi, PWP, Season 3 Speculation That Snuck In My PWP, Sexual Assault, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Derek fails their tests, the Alphas set out to ruin and destroy everything he has.</p>
<p>They start with Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shadows Thrown

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, [here is Deucalion's actor doing the leadup to a sex scene.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XEQeDfgoWA) You're welcome.

_Cliché city_ , Stiles thought as he tried to get his bearings. _Abandoned warehouse, check. Tied to an uncomfortable chair, check. Ransom note for Scott or Derek, probably check._

He wiggled his fingers and winced when his wrist sparked with pain and his shoulders added to the chorus of aches. Stiles started over, moving up his body: Toes fine, knees skinned, something that ached like a bruise on his stomach and another in the middle of his back, shoulders sore from being yanked behind him and around the chair but hopefully not dislocated, and the back of his head pounding like a drum where they’d knocked him unconscious. There were a few cuts and scrapes on his face too, though he only discovered those when he tried to open his eyes.

Also, he was naked.

 _Not quiet naked_ , he told himself. He still had on a snug black pair of briefs; somehow they made him feel more vulnerable. He couldn’t see his clothes anywhere and he tried to focus on the worry that he would have to explain needing new jeans. How many pair could he ruin in a year, his father would ask, and Stiles would shrug, and he’d be disappointed but that would be okay because it would mean Stiles was out of –

A man stepped into the circle of light bathing Stiles. He looked unassuming, a few years younger than Stiles’ dad, but the way his eyes glowed told Stiles everything he’d already guessed. 

“Stiles,” said the Alpha. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope.” Stiles tried to smirk, but it made his cheek hurt.

“Awesome things,” said someone behind him, and Stiles couldn’t help it – he cursed. He recognized the voice and _of course_ the creepy twins were evil. He wasn’t sure if whoever spoke behind him had been Ethan or Aiden. It didn’t matter; where one went, the other followed, so he would have to deal with both. Peter suspected that the pack had at least five members, which left at least two unknowns. Stiles wished for werewolf senses. 

“Goody. So did anyone tell you what a hilariously bad idea it is to kidnap me, or -?” 

“We’ve heard all about your boyfriend,” Ethan said as he stepped forward to Stiles’ right. 

Aiden stepped up to his other side, a little closer, and his hand brushed Stiles’ bare shoulder. Stiles jerked away and hit Ethan instead. “Why do you think we’re here?”

“Better question: why do you think you’re here, Stiles?” The older Alpha walked into Stiles’ personal space to stand just between Stiles’ bound legs. He leaned in. If sitting in his underwear made Stiles feel vulnerable, then sitting in his underwear surrounded by buff werewolves made him feel completely powerless. 

“Because you couldn’t stand being without my fantastic company for a minute longer?”

The older werewolf set a heavy hand on Stiles’ forehead and ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles shivered.

“Because you’re going to send Derek a message for us.”

Stiles heard a zipper, then another, but the older Alpha had him by the hair and he couldn’t look away from those glowing eyes. His heart sped up remembering the last time someone had tried to use him as a message. He hadn’t let Gerard get away with it then and he wouldn’t let the Alphas do it now.

“Hard to do that when I don’t know who from.” Just outside Stiles’ field of vision, he heard cloth rustling, and he prayed it wasn’t what he thought. They had him tied to a chair, what could they do to him in this position? Not – that, not without some warning. 

“You may call me Deucalion. It’s Greek.” As he spoke, Deucalion let go of Stiles’ hair and used both hands to work his belt loose. He moved like he had all the time in the world. “The son of Prometheus, bringer of fire. And do you know what Deucalion is famous for?”

 _A really big dick?_ , Stiles thought. At least, that was what Deucalion _had_ , and he couldn’t think past the fact that there was a stranger’s dick in his face until something nudged his shoulder and he finally turned to look.

Ethan’s cock wasn’t really any smaller. It was red and leaking against Stiles’ shoulder already. Stiles’ eyes flicked up to meet Ethan’s and found nothing but smug condescension in his face. After that, he refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

Stiles remembered there had been question but not what it was, so he shook his head. As he did, he took care not to bring his cheek anywhere near Ethan or Aiden’s dicks on either side of them. He couldn’t stop Deucalion’s tip brushing against his lips. 

“Disappointing. Aiden told us you were the intelligent one.” Deucalion’s precome beaded at the bow of Stiles’ lip. “Lycaon, though. You must know all about him.”

“Zeus-“ Stiles said, but then snapped his lips back together. Deucelion might be waiting for an opening, and Stiles had no intention of giving it to him. He couldn’t resist hissing through his teeth, “I will bite it off. It will be gross and traumatizing but watch me.”

“No need for violence, Stiles.” Deucalion put his hand back in Stile’s hair, this time with his claws out and raking against the tender skin of his scalp. “But Zeus. Lycaon fed Zeus a human child, and in retaliation for Lycaon’s arrogance Zeus made him the first werewolf. But-“

Aiden interrupted both of them with a loud moan. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could block his hearing, but Deucalion continued without any reaction. “-He didn’t stop there. He turned all of Lycaon’s sons, too, and then swept away his kingdom in a massive flood. Deucalion and his wife were the only survivors.” 

Aiden moaned again and Stiles felt his hand moving faster and the tip of his dick bouncing against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles wanted to jerk back again but his mirror image on the other side blocked the way.

“Does any of that sound familiar? You’re a smart boy. You must have figured out why we’re here now.” 

Stiles opened his eyes again to blink and he saw that Deucalion had taken himself in hand. His fingers curled around a little too tight and slid his foreskin up and down while his other hand kept playing in Stiles’ hair. When he spoke it still sounded disaffected. Bored. 

“No? Then I’ll tell you. Derek has failed our tests. He’s not suited to be an Alpha.” More suited than any of them, Stiles thought. The pain in his head doubled with his sudden anger; they could be creeps all they wanted to him but they couldn’t do _anything_ to Derek, or Scott, or the packs. Stiles wouldn’t let them. “Without a proper Alpha, there’s no need for a pack, and Derek must be punished for his failures.”

“You’re going to kill us,” Stiles blurted.

“We’re going to destroy you,” Aiden said, just as Ethan came in hot stripes up Stiles’ shoulder. It splashed onto his ear, into his hair where he could feel it hot on his scalp, and then ran down Stiles’ face. He squeezed his eyes shut again but it was too late, it burned in his eye and in the scratch on his cheek.

“We’re going to destroy everything Derek loves. Starting with spoiling you, Stiles.” Deucalion shivered, in pleasure or anticipation Stiles couldn’t guess. 

“He’ll find you,” Ethan whispered. His hands roamed over Stiles’ shoulder, trailing through his own come and smearing it over the right half of Stiles’ chest and up his neck. He smirked when he got up to Stiles’ face and smiled outright when he dug his salty thumb into the cut on Stiles’ forehead. Aiden laughed. “You’ll still be tied up here and covered in our come, smelling like us. Like a slut.” 

Stiles hadn’t thought of that. He wanted Derek to ride to his rescue, but he didn’t want anyone to see this. He didn’t want to see this. For the first time since Gerard, he felt small. 

“You won’t be his anymore,” Deucalion agreed. “He’ll never be able to look at you again without thinking about this.” 

By now Deucalion’s precome had dripped over Stiles’ lips until they were sticky. Aiden grunted and his own come joined the mess in a flood over Stiles’ head. It soaked his hair and his eyelashes, flooded his ears and threatened to invade his mouth. Stiles shook and whimpered under the onslaught, but he couldn’t stop it. Now both twins laughed at him.

The laughing didn’t bother him nearly as much as Deucalion’s next words.

“Hold his mouth open. Careful, he bites.” 

_No!_ Stiles wanted to shout. No, please, no, but the twins didn’t hear him. They each shoved a hand in either side of his mouth and forced his teeth apart. Stiles tried to bite down, but the claws suddenly pressing against his tongue made him freeze in place as Deucalion roared and spilled his come down Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles gagged, uncaring that it spilled down his chin and over his chest as long as it wasn’t in his mouth. His nose stung and he could feel himself pushed over the edge of tears, but he couldn’t stop them.

They were right. If Derek found him like this, he would never see Stiles the same way. He would never want Stiles the same way, and they had barely done more than kiss before all of this. They were right, and Stiles realized when he looked up: they were gone.


	2. A Lover Of The Light

He waited in the warehouse for what felt like a long time, but the globs of come on his face never seemed to dry. The temperature dropped outside and left him shivering without his clothes. The taste of Deucalion’s come stayed bitter in his mouth. He sat quiet and still and hoped that no one found him.

Stiles never had luck that good.

The warehouse door crashed in like whoever was on the other side expected to find a fight. Stiles squinted, but he could only make out a silhouette against the streetlight outside. He prayed that it was Scott, or even Isaac, but his hopes sunk when one silhouette turned into two and both walked into the light.

Derek. Stiles wanted him to leave, now, before he got any closer. He could probably already smell it – Stiles could smell it – and he needed to leave. No matter how irrational Stiles felt, he could only think one thought: Derek needed to leave.

“Please,” Stiles rasped. The movement set his face blazing with pain all over again. “Derek, you need to get out of here.”

“We’re going to get out of here,” Derek said. He hesitated at the edge of the ring of light but then closed the gap between them all at once, with two strides that took him right where Deucalion stood hours before. “Together. You’re safe now.” 

He wasn’t. Not when Derek stared at him with horror and spoke with suppressed rage. Not when Peter stood behind him without expressing any emotion stronger than ‘bored’ while Stiles’ life crashed around his ears. Not safe.

“You need to _go_ ,” Stiles repeated. The tears made his voice raspy and the head injury made it loud. “Just leave me here, they took me, you-“

“Did they bite you?” Derek knelt between Stiles’ legs and cupped his face with both hands, seemingly uncaring of the mess. “Are you turned?”

Stiles shook his head violently and thanked God for small mercies. “No. Still – this is all they did. I’m fine, Derek, leave.”

“You’re handcuffed,” Peter said, and Stiles glared even though he knew he must look ridiculous with white flakes in his eyebrows and eyelashes and all down his cheeks. Peter shrugged.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Evidentially not,” Peter murmured as he moved around the circle. Stiles caught his breath and strained for the sound of another zipper, but none came. Instead the tension between his hands abruptly loosened with the snapping of the cuffs’ chain. Stiles used his numb, free arms to push Derek back. 

“I can. They took me, I’m not pack anymore, but I’m _fine_.” Stiles knew he didn’t sound fine. His voice edged toward breaking on the words. He wished they wouldn’t look at him. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, and then seemed to think better of it. Instead of talking he stood and swept Stiles into a bridal carry. “There’s a bathroom over there. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It was a locker room, not a bathroom, and it had a shower. Derek turned it on over Stiles’ furious protests, but as soon as the steam filled the room Stiles all but dove under it. There was no soap to be found. Stiles scrubbed himself raw with paper towels until the water ran pink and then cold. 

Derek didn’t stop him. He stood in one corner, huddled in on himself, and watched Stiles without saying a word until Stiles turned the water off. 

“Here,” Derek said and handed Stiles his leather jacket and his underwear. “Peter’s looking for your clothes.” 

Stiles shivered and threw on the jacket without stopping to worry about ruining it. He needed warmth. He needed a lot of things, but right now he wasn’t sure what they were.

Except.

“I need to smell like you again,” he whispered. Derek jerked and for an instant his eyes glowed red. 

“You need to – what?”

“Smell like you,” Stiles repeated. A muscle in Derek’s jaw twitched, but his expression gave nothing away. “I want to be pack, Derek.” 

I want to be _yours_ , Stiles didn’t say, but maybe Derek understood anyway because something relaxed in his face. 

“You can be pack. You’re always pack. They can’t take that away from you, no matter what.” Stiles wanted to believe him, but he could still hear Deucalion’s taunts in his head and he needed this. He walked on bare feet over the wet tile to stand chest-to-chest with Derek. He isn’t tied down this time. Derek’s arms wrapped around him on reflex, and he kissed Stiles’ forehead like it wasn’t disgusting. “But if this is what you need…”

Stiles nodded, and sank down on his knees in front of Derek. He kept the leather jacket around him while he unfastened Derek’s pants with shaking hands. In front of him, all of Derek’s muscles were tensed. Stiles stopped and looked up. The harsh industrial light cast Derek’s face in shadow, but his eyes glowed red and his breath came in hisses through his teeth.

 _He needs this, too,_ Stiles realized and remembered Deucalion’s plan to take away everything Derek had. They hadn’t done much beyond kiss before this, but he could still tell that Derek was aching to claim him and holding himself back so Stiles urged, “Come on. This is what I want.”

“Is it?” Derek sounded destroyed and far away. Stiles’ skinned knees hurt on the tile and his head throbbed and his eyes still stung but he nodded anyway. The fear of being separated from _this_ was too much to let fear overcome him. 

“I need you to be my Alpha.” Not anyone else. Derek moaned and finally grabbed himself. He jerked off silently except the occasional grunt – nothing like Deucalion – but he keeps his eyes locked on Stiles the entire time. When the first drops of precome fell on Stiles’ cheek he welcomed it; it felt burning hot, the same way as the others, but also right. 

Stiles licked it off with a twist of his tongue. Derek’s growl shook them both and his eyes flashed red again. It wasn’t scary, Stiles realized, but reassuring. He whispered, “Come on, Derek, please.”

Derek’s hips strained and he gasped something that might have been a warning, but Stiles ignored it. Instead he opened his mouth and let Derek’s come splash over his tongue and chin before it rolled down his chest. Derek dropped to his knees and cupped Stiles’ face. Stiles thought he would try to wipe it away, but instead Derek’s rough thumbs pushed down into the skin, rubbing but avoiding where Stiles was hurt. Ethan had done the same thing, but Derek looked frantic about it. His eyes bounced all over Stiles’ face and then down at the floor.

“Stiles.” He sounded regretful, and, no. No, no, no. Stiles regretted a lot of things this evening, but belonging to Derek wasn’t one of them.

“I’m yours now,” Stiles whispered. “Pack.”

Derek hesitated, but not long, before he pulled Stiles into a crushing hug. Stiles clung to him and buried his face into Derek’s neck. If Derek cared that the two of them were drying together, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he said, “Pack. Mine.”

“And that means we’re going to take these assholes out. Together.” 

Stiles couldn’t see Derek’s grin, but he imagined he could feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story and chapter titles were all from "Lover of the Light" by Mumford & Sons.


End file.
